A Mother's Love
by bombalurima
Summary: Mai had sworn she was never going to be like her mother, that she would have a completely different relationship with her daughter than the one she had with her own mother...but could that be done? Future fic, obviously, between Mai and her daughter.
1. Arrivals

**A/N: Sometimes, there's an idea that just grabs ahold of me and refuses to let go until I bring it to life. This was one of those cases. I'm sorry, for for now, everything else is on hold. Maybe I'll throw an update or two into 'Consonance'-I'll certainly try to, but this is going to be my main focus.**

**The following will be a series of ficlets/drabbles composed of the relationship between Mai and her mother and Mai and her daughter, Ursa. I wanted to elaborate on the differences, how special a bond Mai has with her daughter, and how unalike it turned out compared to the 'connection' she has with her own mother. **

**Of course, Zuko and Mai's other children will appear frequently, though this first part only contains references to them. I just discovered the other day that the oldest son, Kozu, has the same name as Zuko...just with rearranged letters. FML. Never the less, it stays. Enjoy, and review please!**

_And thou shalt in thy daughter see,_  
_This picture, once, resembled thee._  
_~Ambrose Philips_

* * *

When Mai was born, she didn't cry. Not much, anyway.

She beat her tiny little fists in the air and opened and opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, as if trying to find words to express herself, her shock at arriving in this new world .

"You have a healthy baby girl," The midwife announced to the sweat-soaked lady on the blood-stained beds, the sheets of which were now being stripped diligently and silently away by a cluster of servants.

"I…what?" Was all the lady could choke out, struggling to sit up and get a good look at the child she had just brought into the world, certain that she had heard wrong. How, after all the care she given to the baby in her belly, after all those months she had suffered and endured for the new life growing inside her, could the gods _punish _her like this?

"You have a girl," The midwife repeated, carefully cradling the tiny wriggling lump in her arms. "And she's beautiful, my lady."

The lady said nothing. But she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that somehow, someway, she might open her eyes and find this all to be nothing but a bad dream.

Her husband, who had been appropriately waiting downstairs, came into the room. He cooed over his baby girl, praising her downy soft black hair, her pale gold eyes, already piercing and bright, and her tiny little hands. He assured his wife that if they could have a healthy daughter, they could have a healthy son as well.

There would be plenty of time for them to produce boys, plenty of time to give this child younger brothers. This was only the first among many, and they should treat and love her as such. He left then, back to his study, to a world that made sense.

"My lady…" The midwife turned to the woman, who had remained silent and unmoving throughout her husband's talk and asked tentatively, almost fearing the answer, "Would you…would like to hold your daughter?"

There was a beat, a brief pause as the woman on the bed considered this option. How could she look upon this child, this new little person whom she had carried inside of her for nine months, whom she grew and changed and _lived_ for and no one else, and _not _feel the crushing blow of failure, to know that as careful and as attentive as she had been to the baby she was carrying, things had not worked out as she had hoped?

Still, as her husband had mentioned…they had time. They had plenty of time to make sons, little brothers for this little girl, the tiny boys that this woman had spent her entire pregnancy dreaming about. They had plenty of time. They had all the time in the world.

"Very well," The lady answered, slowly and carefully, stretching her arms out to accept what was now the bane of her existence, and what would later become her greatest treasure.

* * *

When Ursa was born, she _screamed. _Her brothers Ryu and Teyaki had surely not sounded as loud, and even Kozu, the oldest child, could not have possibly been louder than his little sister the moment she entered the world.

Mai was relieved to hear the cries, as loud and as shrill as they were. It meant that it was over. Despite bearing three children before, this one had been hard, seconded only by the birth of her oldest son.

She drooped back against the pillows, utterly spent, and closed her eyes for a moment, taking deep, choking breaths. She felt Zuko's hand on her forehead, bushing her sweaty bangs away for a moment to plant a kiss there, softly murmuring words of encouragement.

It wasn't traditional, or something that was even considered 'right', for a man, let alone the father himself, to be inside the room where the labor was being undergone. No nobleman in recorded history had ever done it before, from Sozin to Ozai, none of them had been there to actually witness their children brought into the world.

Zuko had changed that.

He had barreled his way into Kozu's birth, fought his way into Ryu's, squirmed into Teyaki's, and by now, the physicians and midwives and other attendants had learned that there was no stopping him.

"You have a healthy baby girl, my Lord and Lady," The midwife announced, wrapping up the still-crying child in a soft red blanket.

"I…what?" Zuko spluttered, and Mai, despite her still fuzzy, somewhat scattered thoughts, could detect the choke in his voice—a stutter formed out of nothing but undisguised joy.

"You have a girl!" The midwife repeated, "And obviously, with quite a set of lungs too…"

Mai could feel her husband trembling slightly, and knew why—right from the start, Zuko had wanted nothing more than a girl. He loved his sons dearly, but during the course of each of his wife's pregnancies, he had secretly hoped and prayed for a daughter, a little girl to hold and love without shame, without restriction, someone he could _always _adore and dote on, no matter how old she grew to be.

Now, here they were with their fourth child—and the gods had smiled at him.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied," Mai quipped wearily, managing a tired smile as she watched Zuko's eyes fill up and a slow, wide grin unfurl on his face like the brightest sunrise.

"I want to hold her," Zuko insisted, reaching his arms out. It was no question, no request—it was nothing but an order.

The midwife carefully transferred the newborn from her own arms into the waiting embrace of her father. The second she was settled, curled up against the Fire Lord's chest, her cries stopped, as if the sound of his heartbeat was enough to end all her torment and strife. Mai could understand that. She felt the same way.

"Would you look at that!" The midwife clucked, shaking her head in bemusement.

Zuko shifted so he was sitting next to Mai on the broad expanse of the bed, holding their daughter where his wife could see her too. "Look at her, Mai…" He breathed, his voice quivering with suppressed tears. "She's perfect…"

Mai peeked over to look at her daughter, and had to smile. Some people could claim that all of her children—or all babies in general, really—looked exactly the same at birth and exactly the same throughout their first months as well. She begged to differ. None of her children had ever looked precisely the same, and this little girl was no different. She peered almost quizzically up at her parents, as if she could remember hearing their voices somewhere else before and was trying to recall just where exactly that had been.

"Mai…" Zuko turned his head to press his lips to the top of his wife's head as he murmured, "Can we name her Ursa? After my mother?"

The Fire Lady stopped to think only for a moment, to think about the woman who had many fine, admirable qualities about her, but above all else, loved with a fierce passion. She had been the first to see her son for what he truly was, for what he was to become someday, and she had never once ceased in loving him, even at the cost of her own life, even at the cost of never seeing him again. She and her daughter-in-law had something in common, then. Mai wanted her daughter to have many similarities to her grandmother—this only seemed nothing but completely fitting.

"Yes," She declared, nodding as firmly as she could, feeling ready to drop off to sleep at any second. "That's a perfect name. Now let me hold my daughter before I stab you."

Zuko couldn't help but chuckle, knowing that as exhausted as his wife was, she would probably find a way to end him anyway if he didn't do as she said. He gently handed the baby over to her mother, and watched as Mai cradled the newborn against her chest, dropping a kiss onto her daughter's soft, tiny head.

She now had everything she could have ever asked for.


	2. Brothers

**A/N: You see, guys? This is what positive feedback and encouragement gets you-quick updates! I was so thrilled by my reviews (especially Xamem-The Heart of Oblivion) that I had to write another part-and what a part it is. It's rather hefty, but it ran away from me while I was typing it, as most of my fics tend to do. Anyway, keep reviewing, and I'll keep updating as fast as I can! Thanks so much!**

* * *

Mai had never once held her little brother.

He was born when Mai was thirteen years old, after thirteen long years of her being the only child, the center of attention, the focus of her parents' world, something all her mother's hopes and dreams were riding on.

He was born after thirteen years of her parents wishing it could be another way.

They had tried, unsuccessfully, to have more children from the time Mai was a year old and onward. Her mother had suffered a long, hard string of miscarriages, of waking up to blood-soaked sheets and putting on a mask of ice as the servants stripped the bed clean, repeating her husband's mantra of "we can try again…we can try again…we can try again…" over and over again in her head.

The one baby she had carried to full term had been a still-born. Mai was only six at the time. She had been sitting quietly in her room, reading one of her books (her books were her only real friends back then), when she heard the urgent pattering of feet down the hallway, the servants murmuring in low, hurried voices to each other.

She dared to creep to the door, to press her ear against the wood, and was just in time to hear one worker mutter to the other: "Still-born…needs to be buried…right away…"

Still-born. It was a sinister sounding word, one that oddly constricted the throat just saying it.

Mai waited until she heard the sound of footsteps retreating down the hallway, and then quietly, carefully, as silently as she could, slipped outside. She glanced from left to right, checking for oncoming servants, and when she heard none, tip-toed down the corridor to her parents' room.

She was just in time to see the door slung open and a cluster of nurses and servants from her own household flood out, one of the attendants carrying a small bundle in her arms.

The bundle was made of white cloth. Red blood was leaking through.

Mai returned to her room as quickly as she could and did not fall asleep until far, far later that night, unable to picture anything but that blood-stained cloth that contained her sibling inside of it. Years later, when she was pregnant with her own children, she would wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat, remembering, just _remembering, _the sight. If she ever saw it again in her lifetime, she would go insane.

Her mother didn't though, not after the birth of her dead baby. She kept her head high, her eyes steadily focused straight ahead, as always. Mai never once asked about her still-born sibling. She didn't even know if it had been a boy or a girl.

It took another seven years before an actual baby was born, but this time—their prayers had been answered. Their baby boy (A boy! A boy!) was healthy and strong, his fat fists beating the air and his screams shattering the sweltering little room he had born in.

Mai could hear his cries; from where she sat downstairs with her father. The rest of the house had been entirely silent beforehand, the sudden shrieking came like a bolt of lightning on an otherwise crystal-clear night.

"My lord!" A midwife burst into the room, her eyes bright and her face flushed. "You have a son, my lord! A son!"

Two simple words.

From that moment on, she became nothing more than a fairly interesting side show to the splendor and majesty that was the main act: her little brother, nicknamed Tom-Tom.

Her parents adored him. They showered him with little gifts, with attention, with all the praise and affection that ten little children could ever need, let alone one small boy.

That was all right. They gave her everything she asked for (though at a price), they paid enough attention to her (when it suited them). Mai could have lived with all that, as nauseating as it was.

But they gave Tom-Tom one thing they had never, ever fully given her: their love. Their real, unadulterated love.

He was the apple of their eyes', the reason they each had smiles on their faces, the center of their small, trivial little universe.

And Mai never once got to hold him.

She never bothered to ask, to be honest. There was only so much room in her parents' hearts, only to much space for her in their lives.

Mai grew up detached from her brother. Her parents smothered him so much it was a wonder he didn't choke to death from it. There was simply no space for her to squeeze into, no way she could make it around the suffocating barrier that her parents had clogged around her brother.

She regarded him with no affection, without a drop of sisterly love, simply because that was how she had been raised, because that was the way her parents had wanted her raised. He represented a life that she hated, a life that she would have sold her soul to escape.

When Tom-Tom grew older, and took a sudden, profound interest in his elder sister, they formed a bond…of sorts. They could talk to each other. He liked to play with his little nephews and niece. She found he made a much better teenager than he did a slobbering toddler.

But neither of them, not once, ever grew to love one another.

And Mai finally, finally, one day while watching her children scamper and play in the garden at the palace, realized why:

_To however a small degree, she had been jealous of her little brother. She still was._

* * *

Being the only girl, and the youngest beside, Ursa's life was nothing if not a boot camp.

When she was a day old, all three of her brothers were ushered into their mother's room to get a look at the newest (and last) addition to the family, their golden eyes (each of varying shade and shape) wide and eager to see their little sister. In his arms, Zuko held his youngest son Teyaki (more commonly known as just Tey) who was a bit over one year old.

"Be quiet, you two…" Zuko admonished the others gently but firmly as he placed his hand on the door handle.

Kozu was the oldest at five years of age, and already a hell-raiser. He was the eldest, and therefore, the leader, full of boundless energy and creativity, with already the infamous temper of his father. He was beginning to look quite a bit like Zuko too, something that tickled his mother.

"WHY!" He demanded, naturally, with his typical loud bellow that came whenever he didn't understand something or asked a question.

"Kozu, shush!" Zuko hushed him instantly, silencing his child with a quick, steely golden glare. "You'll scare your little sister, and probably your mother too."

"Shush, shush, shush," Ryu, the second-oldest at three (and a half, to be approximate), echoed his father with what was an awfully self-righteous tone for a toddler. Unlike the whirlwind that was his older brother, Ryu was quieter, more docile, and was dangerously smart for his age. He liked to learn, and he liked to read, two things that bored Kozu to tears.

"Ryu's got the right idea," Zuko smiled at his second-born, and then at the younger child in his arms, as if mentally telling his littlest son which older brother's example he ought to follow. Tey was a bit young to have developed a personality just yet, but Zuko figured two Ryu's would be far easier to handle than two Kozu's.

With one last shushing noise, he ushered his sons into the bedroom, the two bounding over to their mother like puppies, Ryu wriggling onto the bed to be next to her. He was already quite the mama's boy, something Zuko supposed he couldn't complain about.

"Hello, you two…" Mai smiled, still a bit wearily, at her two oldest sons, wrapping one arm around the one who had came to lie beside her, her gaze flickering onto the other, who had eyes only for the little bundle tucked into the crook of the Fire Lady's arm.

"Is that _her?" _Kozu demanded, staring incredulously at the little face peeking out at him.

"It certainly is," Mai nodded, shifting her arm slightly to pull the tiny girl closer to her.

Ryu poked his head over to get a glimpse of his sister as well, examined her for a minute, and finally, came to an earth-shattering, ground-breaking conclusion:

"She's pink."

It didn't take long for the three boys to adapt to their new sibling. Ursa and Tey were only a little over a year apart, so there could obviously be no qualms between the two. Ryu seemed utterly fascinated with his little sister, and he took to badgering his mother about Ursa whenever the moment seemed right (almost always) and was the first to inform her when something was amiss.

"Mama, Ursa's crying."

"I can see that."

A beat.

"Mama, she's still crying."

"Yes, Ryu. She's just fussing. She'll calm down in a minute."

Another beat.

"Mama, she's _still _crying."

Mai sent him outside to play.

Kozu took another approach entirely. He took his position as the oldest child _very _seriously, and he already accepted both Ryu and Tey as his charges. In return for his protection and obviously superior leadership skills, they owed him their complete and utter loyalty and a lifetime of servitude. He saw no reason why he shouldn't treat Ursa any differently. Fair was fair, after all.

Still, Kozu's desire to hold a lordship over Ursa changed the day she threw up all over their father. To his knowledge, he had never seen either of his brothers do something that spectacular before, and he had certainly never seen such a mess.

It was then that he decided that maybe Ursa could become something more of an ally.

Later on, when she was older, he regarded her as a friend too.

_No matter how old they got, the three brothers were always at odds with each other. Ryu and Kozu, primarily, could never see eye to eye on anything, and seemed to clash at every corner. Tey would attempt to play peacemaker, but he would only get trampled underfoot in the commotion._

_It was Ursa, the only girl and the youngest beside, who kept her brothers from falling apart. She teased them, she played with them, she suffered the jokes and pranks they pulled on her only to get back at them a thousand times harder, and she, above all the rest, loved them, loved them in a way that she loved no one else._

_They felt much the same._


	3. Doppelganger

**A/N: I'm rather proud of how this one turned out. I don't really know how to summarize it up here-but I really, really like this one. Reviews are so very appreciated!**

**Also, I took requests. *cough* Enjoy!**

* * *

Sometimes, Mai wondered if she was adopted.

The main root of this was, of course, the fact that she looked like neither one of her parents. True, she had inherited her mother's sharper features and the almond shape of her eyes, but other than that, they had nothing in common.

Her mother's hair was a dull shade of brown, and it was, in actuality, dreadfully frizzy—she applied liberal amounts of product to it to keep it as tame as it was. Her skin had never quite been the desired china-pale, and her face, though angular like Mai's, was always pinched, like she had just tasted something sour.

Mai was a different species entirely, with her doll-like features and long, skinny legs that agonized her mother, who believed that no little girl should ever be that tall. Her skin was as white as a lotus blossom and utterly smooth and flawless—later on in their teenage years, even Ty Lee had a problem with breakouts (something that of course, tortured her), but Mai never had to worry about that.

It wasn't that, however, that was her mother's pride and joy—no, that would have been her hair.

Long, sleek, midnight black and perpetually shiny, neither of Mai's parents had any idea just _where _it came from—but they didn't care. Her hair alone had the ability to turn heads, to have both women and men sigh in different types of longing, and her mother relished in it. She had the servants brush it every morning and night, sometimes seizing ahold of the brush and pulling it through the strands herself, and she ensured that Mai received the best kind of hair care products any girl could ever need to maintain its perfection.

Mai often wondered if her mother was trying to compensate for something.

She was jealous. She would never, ever admit it, but Mai's mother was jealous of her own daughter, and always would be until the day that she died. She would take her daughter's cool loveliness in, and inwardly sneer before hurrying to the nearest mirror and searching for a wrinkle, a gray hair, crow's feet, anything at all, before turning back around and hoarding what little beauty she had—her daughter.

"You are a perfect little doll, Mai," Her mother would proclaim with undisguised delight and greed, eyeing her daughter like a particularly juicy pig she was about to offer up for someone's dinner at a fair—after it had won prizes, of course. "Such a perfect little doll…"

This was all Mai's parents wanted her to be. And over time, she slowly felt as if she were becoming one. Silent, emotionless, nice to look at and toy with (as Azula knew all too well) but at the end of the day, just something to tuck back on your shelf where you can come play with it again the next day.

Mai knew how to hide her emotions behind a small smirk, how to lie through her teeth without batting an eyelash, how to seem cool, collected, and blank as a sheet of paper on the outside—while on the inside, she was screaming. No one seemed to hear.

She would survey herself in the mirror, inspecting her high cheekbones, her sharp profile, angular features and long, slim fingers, the habit she had of sneering whenever something displeased her, the icy cold look of annoyance that crossed her face shortly afterwards. She took into account her skills at lying so well she didn't know if she was capable of telling the truth at all or not, and of course, her emotionless mask, which she had so carefully hit behind for many years now.

Mai realized it then, with a horrible, deliberate jolt of reality:

She was just like her mother.

* * *

Sometimes, Ursa wondered if she were adopted.

Her parents were considered the most attractive couple in the world, not just the Fire Nation, this she had known from a young age. Her Uncle Aang and Aunt Katara were running a close second, but there was just something about the Fire Lord and Lady that caught everyone's eyes the moment they entered a room together, from their refined features to the natural chemistry the two had together.

Ursa was used to the near-worshipful statements folks tended to utter about her mother, speaking in awe of her cool, almost alluring elegance and beauty, remarks that her father was a lucky man indeed, to have such a woman as that.

She often wished, in the deepest part of her heart that no one was privy to, that she looked more like her mother. Ursa tried to pick out the similarities the two of them had, but came up a little short.

They both had dark hair, gold eyes, and pale skin. So did everyone else.

Ursa's hair was fluffy, thick and soft, tumbling in a tangled waterfall down her back and if it were down and out, constantly getting snagged in anything from tree branches to her brothers' play swords. When she was seven, she got sick of it and chopped it all off, leaving the strands shorn and pathetic, the spiky, mismatched clumps of her hair spiking out in all directions. Her father blanched when he saw it at dinner that night.

Her mother gave her the mandatory lecture about how such isn't appropriate, and her brothers all took turns laughing at her. While their father in turn gave _them _a talking-to, Ursa thought, though she couldn't be sure, she saw her mother look at her—and smile.

Ursa also took it upon herself to ruin her dresses, to roll in the mud with her brothers, to go outside when it was sunny and promptly receive a sunburn, to soak in the big, wide world and all its glory at every chance she got. Up until she was about eleven years old, her appearance didn't matter in the slightest to her. She hated dressing up, hated getting her hair done, and hated being the perfect little doll that so many people wanted her to be.

She kept her hair short for a while, finally allowing it to grow long ago a couple years later, and the first day her mother took a comb to it was sheer agony.

"Mom! That _hurts!" _Ursa squalled, swatting at her mother's hand.

"Your hair's awfully tangled," Mai remarked, attempting to dislodge the brush from the thorn thicket that was her daughter's hair. "What on earth did you _do _to it?"

"I didn't do anything," Ursa grumbled, tears smarting her eyes as her hair was pulled on. "It's just like that…"

"I see," Mai sighed, finally liberating the brush, taking out what was _surely _a quarter of Ursa's hair as she did so, resulting in her loud scream of agony.

"For goodness sake Ursa, you don't need to act like that," Mai scolded, shooting her daughter a measured glare.

Ursa rubbed her scalp, and peered at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were shimmering with the tears that the pain had brought up, her round face flushed. Her hair was, as always, a big frizzy cloud of sheer torture clumped around her head, and she thought it then, something that had been true for her whole life now but she had never bothered to realize:

She was ugly.

She looked at her mother standing behind her, so graceful, so lovely, even now as she inspected her daughter with a faint disapproving glare. Her sleek raven black hair was hanging long and loose, one slim eyebrow raised as she noticed her child looking at her.

"What is it, Ursa?"

Ursa swallowed hard once, feeling new tears come to her eyes that had nothing to do with her hair being brushed as she admitted in a weak, slightly shaky voice, "I just…I wish I looked like you, Mom. I wish…that I was pretty too."

Mai's eyes widened as she watched her daughter reach up and rub furiously at her wet eyes, and felt it then—the greatest stirring of love she had ever experienced for her youngest child before, except at the moment of her birth.

She took in how her daughter's shoulders trembled, how she abandoned the attempt to hold back tears and let them flow freely, crying without restraint, letting her emotions slip and slide and fall all over the place.

Mai could see her now, a little girl of five, coated in mud and dripping it all over the floor as Teyaki chased her down a hall of the palace, her delighted shrieks and screams piercing the air, could see her with short hair and her hands planted on her hips as she yelled at Kozu that just because she was a girl didn't mean that she couldn't play ball with him and the other boys, could see her little dirt-stained, grass-soaked toes as she slipped them under the covers when she entered the room and giggled, trying not to let Mai see that she had skipped her nightly bath again.

Mai reached out, and rested one hand on her daughter's wet cheek. Ursa gasped at the cool touch and jerked her gaze up to meet her mother's in the mirror, surprised to see that her eyes looked just as wet as her own were.

"Darling," Mai murmured in a voice shaking with her suppressed tears. _"I _wish I was more like you."

* * *

Seven years later, when Ursa turned eighteen, a spectacular party was held for the princess. Guests from all over the world were streaming in from every corner of the room, Aang and Katara had came to visit with their own children, Sokka and Suki had arrived from the Southern Water Tribe, and even Toph was going to be in attendance.

Though Zuko knew where all of his sons were (Kozu flirting with some of the pretty young female guests, Ryu engaged in an intense-looking conversation with an official of some sort, and Tey entertaining Aang and Katara's young children with Firebending tricks), he had not seen his daughter or his wife all evening.

Grumbling to himself, he marched upstairs to the one place he assumed they had to be in—Ursa's bedroom.

He paused for a moment outside the door, trying to listen, but could only hear their voices, each two of the most beautiful sounds that made up his whole life, very faintly. Knocking once to signify his entry, he swung open the door and peered inside.

Mai was standing behind Ursa, who was seated in front of her mirror. The Fire Lady was brushing her daughter's hair, running the brush through the soft strands with ease; before reaching around and expertly pinning it some of it back and away from her face with a pearl-encrusted comb.

"Thank you, Mom…" Ursa smiled at her mother in the reflection, before standing up and turning to face Mai, of whom she was just as tall as now.

"Thank you," She repeated, holding her arms out for a hug. "For everything…"

Mai embraced her daughter, planting a firm kiss to the top of her head, and Zuko took them in for a moment, his heart swelling with love for each of them and both of them at the same time until he thought it would burst in his chest.

Ursa, who had had her eyes closed, opened them then and caught of her father. "Dad!" She laughed, pulling away from her mother. "You didn't even knock!"

"I tried to," Zuko insisted, miffed.

"Obviously, it wasn't a very good try," Mai remarked, raising a cool eyebrow.

"I—well—look, if you two don't hurry up, you'll officially be late for the party," He reminded them both, hoping to cover his embarrassment with his annoyance.

"All right, all right, don't get yourself in a twist," Ursa smirked faintly as she brushed past her father, Mai right along behind her.

Zuko watched them go for a minute, and listened to the near-identical sounds of their quiet laughter.

It was scary, he thought to himself, how much Ursa was like her mother sometimes.


	4. Love

**A/N: Another long 'un, but a good 'un. I'm seriously very proud of how this one turned out. This next chatper is entitled 'Love' for a reason-this one is about what Mai and Ursa each learned about love and marriage from their parents...or what they didn't learn. The contrast between each scenario is particuarly strong in this case, and I wanted to convey it here-that Mai and Zuko are not only just parents, but still lovers as well. Having kids doesn't take away from that in the slightest. Also, I explored a little more into the backstory of Mai's parents' relationship...we don't see much of them, but from what we do, this is what I concluded about them.**

**As always, enjoy, and review please!**

* * *

It was safe to say that Mai had learned nothing about love from her parents.

Their marriage had been an arranged one, they had been scheduled to tie the knot since she was eight and he was ten. They had met once or twice a year with their families for dinner and tea and such, and each of them quickly grew adjusted to the duty expected of them: one day, they were to marry this other person.

Mai's grandmother, her mother's mother, was undoubtedly one of the strictest, most rule-following women on the face of the earth. A die-hard supporter of Fire Lord Azulon (and his father and his son in return), she firmly believed that the way a man could aid his country was by joining the war, the way a woman helped was by bearing sons to help support the noble cause in their later years.

She trained her daughter herself in every last detail and aspect of a noblewoman's life, from how to dress, how to style her hair, how to make polite conversation, and above all else, how to run a household in such a discreet, subtle way, that outsiders still believe it was the man who governed it.

Mai's mother took her lessons very seriously and completely to heart. She knew by the time she met her fiancé's family for tea one afternoon when she was eleven that she would make a perfect wife to him—she had been raised no other way.

They were officially married when she was fourteen and he was sixteen. Their first year of their union was a living hell for Mai's mother—they were still living with his parents, and her mother-in-law saw to it that she never got a moment of peace, constantly breathing down her neck and watching her with stony eyes, just waiting for her to make one wrong move, one little slip, to get a toe out of line.

She never did. Mai's mother was much like her daughter in that way—when she set her mind to a goal, she worked until it happened. It wasn't long before her mother-in-law grew to approve of her new daughter, and whole-heartedly approved when she and her son moved out of their house in order to buy one for themselves.

After they bought their first house, their marriage became a little more intimate. She was only fifteen, but she was so well-bred and well-educated in the ways of pleasing one's husband, that her age hardly mattered. She knew that now, a year into their marriage, was the time to be thinking about children, the time when it become her duty to not only serve her husband, but to bear him sons as well.

Their first attempts were unsuccessful. After a long string of failed conceptions and miscarriages, Mai's mother turned to the one constant in her life, the one person she knew would help her without fail for fear of her own reputation's damage—her mother.

The older woman, whose other strong, healthy children were all married and had their own families by now (with the exception of her eldest son, who had become a guard at some dreadful prison somewhere), had no choice but to aid her daughter—if word got out that she could not bear children, her status would be ruined, utterly and completely in shambles. A woman is only good for so much if she cannot have able-bodied, hearty babies after all.

They tried everything under the sun, from herbs to elixirs, from desperate prayers winged to the spirits above to midnight visits to apothecaries. Everything failed. For years, this maddening, frantic cycle repeated, and by the time Mai's mother was twenty-two, the news was confirmed: she could not bear children.

Just as she and her husband had been staggering, felled by the crippling blow that they could not carry on his family's bloodline, the lady became pregnant. The baby held on for longer than the customary three months, the usual time that they woke up to blood-stained sheets. The baby passed the six month mark. The baby made it to nine months, and was delivered in a surprisingly relatively easy labor.

The baby was a girl. A lovely, strong little girl, who was only good for one thing—little brothers. And maybe, someday, a good marriage.

After that, her parents assumed that now, they had nothing to worry about. If they could have a healthy daughter, they could have a healthy son. They believed that all their troubles were behind them now, that finally, _finally,_ they could have those sons they had been taught to uphold as something sacred, the one thing that a perfect wife must give to her husband.

They assumed incorrectly, and as the failed conceptions and lost babies returned, their marriage, which had been a daringly happy, blissful one after the birth of their first child, soon became strained.

Little Mai grew up watching her parents bob and weave their way around one another, in the intimacy of their own home. When company was over, or they were out in public, they behaved as a usual married couple should, but in private, they treated each other with only a cool, sort of measured respect.

Their lost children had put a gap between them, a gap that could only be bridged by the birth of a healthy son. As such, their union suffered, to the point where Mai sometimes honestly forgot they were a husband and wife.

They never kissed. They barely touched. They were two people who were being punished for their marriage, two people who were unsure just which one of them to blame for their loss of offspring. They held tight to their one child to the point of suffocation, Mai's mother drilling into her young daughter the same lessons she learned from her own mother.

Mai would hear them talking quietly to one another, would see a small, almost grudging smile unfurl on her father's face when his wife did something to please him. But ultimately, their love for their duty was exceeded by their love for each other. In a political, half-desperate relationship such as theirs, there was no room for genuine love and affection. A proper marriage, Mai's mother told her daughter, should be as such.

When Tom-Tom was born, their treatment of each other pulled such a complete turn-around, it made Mai a little dizzy at first. Previously, they had been nothing but respectful and dutiful to each other, bonded together by the desires of their parents and the frenzied need to have a male heir. Now that they had what they had desired for so many terrible years, all of the time they had lost as a couple suddenly flew to them with open arms.

They behaved almost giddily, warm with each other and with their young son, even a bit gentler to Mai. They touched now, an affectionate brush on the shoulder or a quick clasp of the hands, a small smile exchanged. To Mai though, who had grown up with their old, more distant relationship, it seemed wrong. It seemed false, almost like compensation for something.

Then again, Mai reminded herself, that was how a married couple was supposed to act. Duty and children came first, and intimacy as a couple followed after. That was always how it was, and that was always how it should be. Her parents had shown that to her.

Years later, when she had the _nerve _to wrap her arms around Zuko and plant a kiss on his neck in _public, _her mother scolded her horribly for it. Did she _want _to be seen as nothing but a whore? Did she _want _the entire capital city to think her a slave to her wanton desires, as someone governed by her emotions? Did she _want _to be an embarrassment to her family, after so much years of proper schooling?

"No," Mai answered, lifting her chin up to meet her mother's eyes, and said the one thing she had been longing to tell her for ages now. "I want to love Zuko without you constantly telling me what I'm doing wrong."

The next day, Mai moved into the palace. It, along with her later marriage to the Fire Lord, was anything but arranged.

* * *

It was safe to say that Ursa had learned everything about love from her parents.

Her Aunt Ty Lee was fond of telling their tale to her, especially before bed, where a wide-eyed little Ursa would listen in awe to her favorite love story—the one of her mother and father.

"Didn't Mama get bored waiting for Daddy to come back?" The tiny six-year old asked her 'aunt', who had just finished telling her niece about their years spent apart during Zuko's banishment. Three years apart…that was halfway as old as Ursa was! She couldn't imagine loving someone who wasn't there with you for that long.

"I bet she did," Ty Lee giggled, thinking of Mai and her jaded attitude. "But she loved your dad enough to believe that someday, he might come back…and then he did! Isn't that wonderful?"

Ursa nodded energetically—she knew what part of the story came next.

"Then Daddy and Mama fell in love again, didn't they?"

"They certainly did…" Ty Lee smiled, and squeezed the little girl's foot under the covers. "But your daddy didn't feel right…it was nothing your mama had done. He…he wasn't sure about what he was doing at the time. He felt lost, and very confused. Your mom was always there for him, and he loved her very much…he didn't want to leave her, but he knew he had to do the right thing and join Uncle Aang. He had to teach him Firebending so he could help him save the world, you know."

"Poor Mama…" Ursa, naturally, sided with her mother, thinking of her alone and sad again, this time, having been left behind intentionally.

"She was very sad…" Ty Lee agreed quietly. "But she still loved him…she saved his life, after all."

"So…without Mama, Daddy would be _dead?" _Ursa squawked anxiously, trying to imagine a world without her father in it.

"That's right, sweetheart," Ty Lee nodded. "She saved him, and after he returned home, they picked their relationship up right where they had left off…and, well, you know the rest."

Yes, Ursa certainly did. Nowadays, it was extremely rare to see the Fire Lord and Lady out of each other's company. Usually, the only time they were separated was when he was at one of his meetings, and then Mai tended to be with their children. Zuko would locate his family wherever they might be, whether it was outside playing in the garden or inside, and the first thing he would do was stride over to his wife and press his lips to her's in a long, deep kiss.

"EWW!" Kozu shrieked, looking up from the toy soldiers he had been diligently organizing for a battle. "Mama and Dad are _KISSING!"_

"Yes, we certainly are," Zuko smirked at his oldest child, who had a look of utter dismay and disgust on his face, before kissing Mai again. She laughed lightly against his lips, reaching her hands up to cup his face and hold him to her, deepening the kiss and resulting in more squeals issuing from their children.

At least, from the boys. Ursa however, merely sat and watched with eyes as huge as dinner plates, the dolls she had been playing with completely forgotten.

People _raved _about the romance between the Fire Lord and his Lady, the likes of which had never been seen in their nation before. Fair enough, Fire Lord Azulon had loved and respected his wife Illah openly, but that had been nothing compared to what their grandson had with his own girlfriend, and later his wife.

Ursa was used to seeing them curled up together on the couch during the daytime, and twined together in bed at night. Once, when she had woken up in the middle of the night due to a bad dream, she had slipped into her parents' room, desperate to wriggle in between them and fall asleep there, where the nightmares could not reach her.

She had raced over to their wide, spacious bed, so much larger than her's was, and scrambled on top, to what side her father was surely sleeping on. Ursa had been surprised that he wasn't on his side at all—but rather, tangled with her mother on the opposite part of the bed. Nevertheless, she had managed to squirm her way in between them and drift easily off to sleep, where she was discovered wedged the next morning by a perplexed Zuko.

As she got older though, Ursa noticed that her parents did not exactly have a perfect, fairy-tale relationship. They bickered sometimes, though their fights never lasted long, and one of them (usually her father) would be quick to make amends.

They also understood that they had duties and obligations—as the Fire Lord, Zuko could be kept fairly busy, and was expected to run and manage his nation with finesse and justice. Mai too had her fair share of jobs—not only was she the Fire Lady, which in itself was a back-breaking task, but she was largely responsible for the supervision of her children, a feat all in its own category.

Still, despite the fact that they were the most powerful couple on the face of the earth, despite the fact that they had their own duties and tasks and work to complete, despite the fact that they had children to raise and monitor and teach, Mai and Zuko's love for each other never faltered. Not once. If anything, it grew even stronger every passing day.

When Ursa was seventeen and starting to attract the attention of numerous young men, her father about hit the ceiling.

"You're not allowed to date until you're thirty," Zuko insisted heatedly to his daughter, his golden eyes narrowed and shining dangerously.

"Zuko, by the time I was thirty, all of our children had been born," Mai reminded him testily, and Ursa silently thanked the spirits above that her mother was on _her _side in this ordeal—all of her brothers were in the same boat as their father was.

"That's…_different," _The Fire Lord insisted through gritted teeth.

"How so?" Mai arched one cool eyebrow, and her husband, unable to come up with an answer that didn't involve spluttering furiously, whirled around and marched out of his daughter's room, where their conversation had been taking place.

Ursa let out a sigh and fell onto her back on her bed. As the only girl of the family and the youngest on top of that, it was only to be expected that her dad would freak out like this. Her brothers were all at different stages in their own romantic departments—Kozu, the eldest, had little interest in marrying anyone, preferring to acquire a new girlfriend every other week or so, to his parents' annoyance. Ryu had been seeing a girl for a few steady months now, and Tey was head over heels in love with Aang and Katara's eldest daughter Amaya. She was the only one who was missing out on something.

"Just ignore your father," Mai advised her, shaking her head in bemusement. "I really don't know what to do with him sometimes…"

"I don't know how you put with him," Ursa groaned, rolling over on her side. "Are you sure you made the right choice when you married him?"

"Yes." At this, her mother had to softly smile. "I've never been surer about anything else in my entire life."

* * *

_When Ursa was married and had her own children, she told them all stories about their grandparents, about the love her parents had for each other and continued to foster well into their elderly years. When they looked at each other, Ursa could tell, they saw the other's graying hair, wrinkles, gnarled hands, and weak eyes._

_But her father saw the little dark-haired girl who had been his first friend, who had smiled at him and made him feel like someone special, like someone loved. Her mother saw the little boy, lost and alone, who needed someone, the someone that she had been. He saw the raven-haired young woman whom he had fallen so deeply in love with, he still could not see the surface to this day—and had no intention to ever do so. She saw the scarred young man that she had held to her for so many nights, the man she had given everything to and received everything in return from him._

_When her father died, Ursa spent much of the few weeks afterwards with her mother. It surprised her to notice how little Mai wept—she had cried after he had first passed away, had cried at his funeral, but after that, there hadn't been many tears on her part. Ursa was a bit taken aback—surely, the love of her life, her soul mate, the only man she had ever loved and the father of her children leaving this world for the next would inspire some more sorrow on her part?_

_Ursa one day turned to her elderly mother and asked, "Mom…don't you miss Dad all that much? You're…you're separated now. Don't you miss him even a little bit?"_

_To her own dying day, Ursa would never forget the words that her mother spoke to her next._

_Mai looked at her daughter as if she were crazy._

_"Ursa, dear…whatever gave you the impression that he and I were apart?"_


	5. Fathers Part 1

**A/N: Sorry it took me forever to update this one. I'm on a bit off a computer restriction, so updates will NOT be coming reguarly. Anyway, this next peice is about Mai and her father...it got way long, so I didn't want to add onto it with the next Ursa/Zuko bit. That'll stand alone as it's own chapter after this. After that one, I'll write one more chapter, and then it'll be over!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing-it really makes a difference if you stop to give even a little bit of feedback! Enjoy, even if this bit doesn't have any Ursa in it!**

* * *

While it was true that Mai had a complex, sort of distant relationship with her mother, it did not seem that the same could be said for her father.

As a man of political ambition, it was assumed, of course, that his track record remained perfect, that his reputation remained untouched, and that his family, particularly his little daughter, remained flawless. The fact that the union between him and his wife had failed to produce any sons only deepened this point further into their minds, until it became Mai's mother's obsession.

Matsuri took it upon herself to train her daughter in everything she could possibly imagine, whatever it took to ensure that Mai grew up knowing her place and her duty. Her father, Hiroshi, was always there hovering on the outskirts of the bubble that was his wife and daughter. He didn't want to interfere much—that was Matsuri's business, certainly not his—but sometimes, he felt a pang go through his heart when he thought of Mai.

He had grown up with a few sisters and an old-fashioned mother, and therefore, knew what was expected of in a woman. His own wife was a prime example of that. Still, he would look at her, at his tiny, pale, dark-haired little daughter, dutifully practicing how to sit like a lady and make polite dinner conversation, and feel a small sting of guilt pierce him nearly every time. It was true that he had always, _always, _wanted a son—but he still didn't like to see her with her eyes downcast all the time, a small, almost permanent frown always etched on her tiny face.

Hiroshi's daughter was smart—her teachers at the Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls loved saying so. She was, in fact, the brightest girl in the class, with the possible exception of the Princess Azula, who was a prodigy, of course. Her best subjects were ones that, according to her mother, simply wouldn't serve her much of a purpose later on in her life—things like math, history, politics, and geography all came naturally to her, and she honestly enjoyed learning about them. She never once failed to receive excellent marks in all of her classes, and Hiroshi was proud. His wife was as well, but for a different reason entirely.

"Of course, it's nice to have such a bright, well-rounded girl," Matsuri assured her husband. "But I don't want her to become _too _smart…men tend not to like a girl smarter than they are."

Hiroshi thought privately that Mai was unlikely to ever attract a husband if that was the case—his wife would have shrieked his ears off.

Secretly, inwardly though, Hiroshi was very proud of his daughter. She was a polite, well-mannered girl, who was obviously very intelligent…and sometimes it bothered him that, more often than that, the only time Mai was permitted to be out of her room was when she visiting the palace, if company was over, or if she was attending some other kind of social event. She was more or less like a pretty little china doll, paraded out when there was use of her, and tucked back into her box was she was not needed.

Ordinarily, Hiroshi might not have minded—he had, after all, been raised in a _very _traditional household, and was accustomed to such treatment of women and girls. But sometimes, he looked at her daughter, at her sad little face and astute gold eyes, and wanted for her to have a different life—a better life.

He didn't dare bring the subject up to Matsuri. Though everyone else in polite society pretended otherwise, it was common knowledge that the _real _master of Hiroshi's household was his wife. She ruled her home with an iron fist encased in a silk glove, and hid behind her weak-willed, easily-dominated husband when the time was right, when she had to pretend otherwise. In all honesty, he was a bit scared of her at times.

Still, he did what he could to show his love for and help his daughter, in his own fumbling, awkward way. He ordered only the finest and most well-written books he could locate, handing them to her stack by stack, watching her whole face light up every time he presented her with a new, thick volume. Sometimes, Hiroshi would come into her room before bed and she would read out loud to him, in her slightly hoarse, raspy little voice, filling the room with tales of faraway lands and battles—she only ever wanted to read about history and thrilling heroes and deeds, certainly not the silly, fluffy romance novels full of princesses and dashing knights that other girls her age might have pursued. In a way, he took pleasure in that.

Hiroshi was not a man who had been raised to be affectionate and loving—therefore, he did not necessarily know how to properly show his daughter just how much he really did love her. It was especially hard with Matsuri and her hisses of what was proper and what wasn't chasing him around every corner, and it grew even more difficult after the birth of his son. He often thought, many times to himself, that Mai was being neglected, receiving plenty of attention from her parents—but the wrong kind of it.

He was delighted to see that not only was Mai smart, but she was lovely too, far prettier than her mother even, who was considered a very attractive woman. The older she got, the more her beauty became evident, and the more both her parents relished in it—again, for different reasons. Her mother, while also being slightly envious, saw it as just another way of attracting a husband. Her father saw it as something to boast about—not only was his daughter clever, she was stunning as well.

Mai's loveliness wielded unexpected results and rewards. Hiroshi was not a strong man, was not a good leader, and couldn't even run his own household, let alone a city. So naturally, it came as a surprise when Fire Lord Ozai appointed him the governor of the newly-conquered Earth Kingdom city Omashu, the second-large and strongest town in the entire kingdom, seconded only by the great Ba Sing Se itself.

His wife didn't even bat an eyelash when she heard the news, but instead, smiled and remarked, "Well, I'd best go tell Mai then."

Hiroshi didn't ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Still, he was optimistic that maybe the move to a new city would lift Mai's spirits a bit. Nowadays, he noticed a trait of her's, a trend that she had to remain constantly bored with everyone and everything around her, expressing her dislikes for things with ease, but confessing her pleasure or happiness with nothing. In a way, he supposed he had himself to blame…it was he, he and his wife, who had raised her to be as such. Well, no, that wasn't true…but this was her way of rebelling, he supposed. He hoped that a new city would bring a change to his daughter, a change for the better, a change for good.

If anything though, Omashu only seemed to damper his daughter's already bleak mood. It brought him silent despair, to know that everything, from new clothes to servants at her beck and call, to an elite upper-class station in a large city they practically owned, everything he ever did for her came to naught. His wife assured him that Mai was merely being difficult, a typical surly teenager—given a little time, she would surely come around.

But she didn't—and before long, she was gone. The Princess Azula herself had arrived at their city, and offered their daughter a proposal she could not refuse—the chance to escape. Hiroshi had no idea what Azula could possibly want Mai for, but it didn't matter much—his daughter had left with scarcely a goodbye to her parents.

Matsuri was beside herself, wailing and moaning about just what in the world Mai might be getting herself into, but, and although he never once said it out loud, Hiroshi was proud. Proud. Proud that his daughter had somehow, someway, finally taken a stand.

He and his little family lived in Omashu for a time, until the Day of the Black Sun—the day of the eclipse. Without their Firebending, all of the guards posted around the city were entirely useless, and the previously imprisoned King Bumi and his forces made short work of their rule, easily overthrowing the governor and his men, and sending all of them, tails between their legs, back to the Fire Nation.

It was only there that he learned, truly learned, just what his daughter had been up to during the months spent away from her family.

His wife could have had a heart attack. She almost instantly launched into a full-force rage, shrieking at her daughter about what kind of horrors all of her actions (especially landing herself in jail! _Jail!) _would do to her reputation, how no man would ever want her for a wife now, and just how badly she had destroyed all her parents' hopes and dreams for her, and how she 'hoped she was satisfied with herself', and-

"Mother." Mai looked up at her, and said in as calm a voice as she could possibly muster, "Shut. _Up."_

In that moment, Hiroshi thought he admired his daughter more than anyone else in the world.

Once Matsuri had been upstairs to bed with a cup of tea, still spluttering incoherently, Hiroshi found Mai in her room, in the midst of what looked like preparations for a trip.

"Are you…going somewhere?" He asked, watching in faint confusion as his daughter jammed several of her favorite, worn-out books from her shelf into a bag.

"Yes," Mai answered curtly, not looking up at him as she continued to jam various belongs of her's into a bag, until the point where it became overstuffed, and she began a search for another one.

Obviously realizing he was not going to get more of a response unless he dug for it, Hiroshi made another attempt at forcing an answer out of her.

"And…just where do you think you're going?"

There was a long, pregnant pause, and he watched the curve of Mai's shoulders, set so rigid and firm, just like her mother's, slump slightly.

"I'm not sure. Zuko's, probably. He'd love to have me."

This, Hiroshi could safely say was true. He had not witnessed any of his daughter's courtship with the Fire Lord back he was still only a prince, as he had still been in Omashu, but even his fairly short time back at home now had abruptly introduced him to the love he hadn't know his daughter was capable of feeling. If Zuko wasn't over at their house, she was over at his. Hiroshi had once walked in on them twined together on the couch, the young Fire Lord's face and hands buried in his daughter's hair as he murmured in a soft, low voice to her. The pure adoration in Mai's eyes as she wrapped her arms around him nearly stole his breath away.

Hiroshi watched his daughter in silence for a minute, as she began packing away the knives he had not known she kept, the weapons that he had heard she was frighteningly skilled with. It surprised him then, in that moment, just how _little _he really knew about his daughter, the product of his own flesh and blood, the little person that he had always silently been proud of and loved from a safe distance.

Without a word, he stepped forward and sat down on the edge of her bed. Mai, who had been digging objects out of her closet, halted in her actions. She turned slowly, to look back at her father, her pale yellow eyes wide.

He patted the space on the bed beside him. She studied him for a minute, with one of the shrewdest looks he had ever seen, before finally, lowering herself down next to him.

"Mai…" Hiroshi reached out, and put an arm around his only daughter, his pride and joy, his little girl, andsaid in a quiet voice, "Why don't you tell me everything that I've missed."


	6. Fathers Part 2

**A/N: All right, so I teared up a little writing this one...this is the Zuko/Ursa version of the previous chapter. The difference between the two fathers and daughters and their relationship is significant. I'm quite happy with how this one turned out-but also sad. This is the second-to-last chapter. The next one will be it. Look for that real soon...I've got some more ideas I'd like to bring to life once this is put to rest.**

**As always, enjoy, and thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

Right from the very start, Zuko had wanted a daughter.

The minute Mai took his hand and rested it on her belly, still flat and smooth, and whispered to him that she was pregnant, his mind had flashed to a little girl; to a perfect, tiny Mai he could cradle in his arms and watch grow up, her lovely mother in miniature.

To him, it only made logical sense. He loved Mai so much, why in the world wouldn't he want another one of her around?

"Zuko," Mai explained to him patiently when he swung this notion of his by her. "Even if we have a girl, she isn't going to be a perfect copy of me. She'll be her own person."

"As long as she looks like you…" Zuko insisted, nuzzling the curve of his wife's swollen stomach.

Mai sighed but smiled faintly, playing with his dark hair. Secretly, she hoped for a little boy who looked like Zuko. The idea of having a beautiful son with his father's gold eyes and unruly dark hair was a wonderful one, and sometimes she would sit, hand resting on her belly, and let herself get lost in a daydream about that very notion.

Mai was the one who got her wish—not only was their child a boy, but he quickly grew into a small, near-perfect copy of his father, something that inwardly thrilled her to no extent. Together, they produced two more son, Ryu and Teyaki, neither of whom looked as much like Zuko as their elder brother Kozu did, but were close enough. The resemblance was definitely a strong one.

Zuko loved his sons deeply. He didn't treat Ryu and Tey any differently from their brother because they were younger (in all honesty, they were much easier to handle than Kozu was), and each of his sons grew up to have a very different relationship with him than he had held with his own father, something that he had sworn to himself would be the case.

Still, he continued to hope and pray for a girl. The thought never left him. After the birth of his third son, it seemed like he was incompetent of siring anything but males, something that actually concerned him and that he made the mistake of questioning Katara about.

She shot him a withering look over the crown of Tenzin's head (he was only a few months old, and just as hairless as his father) and said, "Zuko, just because you've only had sons so far doesn't guarantee that any of the future ones will be too. It's a fifty-fifty chance of either every time. And furthermore, just how many more kids are you going to have before you're happy? Three seems plenty enough."

Yes, three was more than enough. Even Zuko had to admit that. He loved his sons. The thought of _not _having a daughter stung slightly, but he had three beautiful, wonderful boys. There was no reason he should complain, or hope for any more.

He didn't expect Mai to take it the way she did when he informed her of this.

"No." She seized ahold of his hand and pressed it to her cheek, kissing the palm of it as she insisted in a fierce tone, "Three _isn't _enough. I'm giving you a little girl, if it's the last thing I do."

He kissed her for that, long and hard, and tried not to think too much about the last part of her statement. Though there was always, always the chance that Mai might be lost to him in childbirth…it didn't seem likely anymore, not when she had already given birth to three such strong boys.

They tried again—and four was the lucky number. Princess Ursa was born on a blustery fall day, the atmosphere outside shifting and changing just about every five minutes. Zuko was, of course, over the moon. At the same time though, there it was nagging away at his gut—the insuppressible fear that he would not be a good father, that he would fail somehow, someway.

He felt this way before the birth of his first child, but scarcely at all after his second and third. By that time, he felt better—more confident, and ready to be a parent to two little ones (if he could handle Kozu, he could handle anything). But this case was different.

This was a little girl, a daughter, the one thing he had always wanted…and was as unalike her brothers as day is to night. Raising a boy and raising a girl seemed to Zuko like two very opposite things—with his sons, he could be a little brusque, could lose his temper a little bit and knew how to beat them into submission in just the right way—tough, but not too touch.

A daughter was different.

"Zuko…" Mai said to him one night shortly after she had just fed their daughter, now cradling her against her chest. "Can you hold Ursa for a little bit? I'd like to go take a bath."

Zuko froze—Ursa was barely two weeks old, and in her short lifetime so far, he had only held her a few times. He hardly dared to touch her little face or body. He had never told anyone why, but Zuko had a feeling it came from the fact that he was scared to break her, scared of hurting her in same way. A baby girl was very different from a baby boy.

Mai frowned slightly, watching her husband tense.

"I…" Zuko shot his wife a halfway nervous, halfway desperate look, which Mai promptly ignored.

"I won't be long," She promised him, carefully depositing their daughter into his arms. "Hold her the right way. You know how to."

Zuko gave her another pleading glance, but Mai turned and headed into the bathroom, shooting one last edgy look over her shoulder as she did so. Zuko sat on the edge of their bed, Ursa in his arms, looking like a man stranded on a desert island with only one last precious canteen of water left with him.

Shaking her head, Mai entered the bathroom—she knew well enough what was she doing.

Zuko glanced down towards the baby in his arms, and nearly lost his breath. He couldn't believe that she was here, really here, the thing he had been hoping and praying for for years now. She was even more perfect than he had ever imagined.

Though in actuality, Ryu had weighed less than his new little sister during his first weeks of life, Zuko felt that Ursa was lighter than he had been. He couldn't help but admire the tiny pink shells of her fingernails, the way her bitty fingers curled into tiny fists that she held up against her chubby cheeks, gold eyes screwed shut as she slept. Like her brothers, Ursa had been born with hair, an already fairly good swatch of downy black fuzz crowning her head.

Zuko could feel it, almost physically feel it—his heart melting in his chest.

Mai returned a little bit later, wearing only a thin, simple red robe, her hair still damp and hanging down her back like a sleek black waterfall. She couldn't stop the smile on her face when she caught sight of the scene she had her hopes she might—Zuko, cradling their little daughter and looking at her like nothing else in the world existed, like he had never seen anything more wonderful.

She moved to sit beside him, curling her legs up as she propped her chin on his broad shoulder to look down at Ursa as well.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Mai whispered into his ear, her voice soft and warm, very unusual for her—except in times like this.

"She is…" Zuko breathed, lowering his head to plant a kiss to his daughter's forehead. "Just like her mother…"

Mai smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

* * *

Mai had heard of overprotective fathers. She didn't know what exactly having one was like—she and her own father had a somewhat affectionate, albeit slightly awkward relationship, but the notion of actually being close enough to the man that fathered you, close enough for him to want to shield you from anyone and anything was an abstract concept to her.

That is, until she and Zuko had their own daughter.

Zuko wasn't troubled too much when his boys fought. Unless things get out of hand, or the subject they were quarreling over was serious, he abided by his uncle's jaunty chuckle of "let boys be boys." However, if one of his sons even thought about dragging Ursa into a fight, there would be problems.

If Ursa tripped, Zuko was usually the first to flap over to her, demanding to know if she was all right. When Ursa bashfully confessed in her mother that she a crush on a little boy in the public school that she went to (Mai later made the mistake of telling Zuko), he sat up straight and stared, like he was watching the world fall to pieces before his very eyes.

That was nothing, however, compared to when she brought an actual living, breathing boy home to meet her parents for the first time.

Ursa, at age sixteen, was a beauty. She looked not unalike a combination of her mother and her Aunt Azula, which all together made for quite a pretty young woman. Lots of noble men's sons were beginning to show interest in her, pursuing her sometimes to the point where Zuko nearly lost his temper, and Mai had to intervene.

Sen was a nice enough young man. His father was wealthy, a nobleman that Zuko knew fairly well and generally liked. His son was a few years older than Ursa, a tad bit of a stuff-shirt and maybe a notch _too _polite. The whole time Ursa and he were speaking to him, his eyes were narrowed. Mai kept her hand on knee, giving it a warning squeeze whenever he hotly opened his mouth or suppressed a growl in his throat.

"I don't like him," Zuko informed Mai later once they were alone in the sanctuary of their bedroom, his voice a low snarl.

"Now there's a big surprise," Mai remarked dryly from where she was sitting in front of her mirror, brushing her long hair out before bed, a habit of her's.

"Don't joke about this," Zuko grumbled, moving to stand beside her. She turned slightly, just enough to look at him, eyebrows raised.

"I'm serious," He insisted.

"So am I." Mai handed him the hair brush without another sound—he knew what he had to do.

Zuko heaved a sigh, but obediently ran the brush through her hair for a few strokes in silence, before setting it down and replacing it with his fingers instead.

"Ursa seems to like him," Mai pointed out, closing her eyes at her husband's ministrations.

"Yes…" Zuko grudgingly admitted, though he did find that stroking Mai's hair was, oddly enough, relaxing and calming him down a notch. "But she's only sixteen. Her judgment isn't the best."

"I was younger than that when I fell for you," Mai couldn't help but smirk. "Are you saying that _my _judgment wasn't the best then?"

Zuko opened and closed his mouth furiously a few times, before spluttering out, "That's _completely _different."

"How so?" Mai pulled away from him and got to her feet, turning to face him.

"You weren't…it's not…Ursa's…." Zuko was attempting to find the right words—and failing hopelessly.

Mai simply encircled her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. "I know," was all she said, holding him as he sighed into her shoulder. "I know."

* * *

"Hello, Dad! What are you doing here? The ceremony's about to begin!"

"I know, I know….I just….wanted to see you….before."

"Of course. Is…anything the matter?"

"No…no. I just…"

"Awww Dad. You're not crying, are you?"

"No. Whatever made you think that?"

"Here, it's all right…"

Her arms went around him. They were long and slender now. He could still feel them, tiny and stubby, trying desperately to encircle his waist as she begged for him to come play with her.

"I just can't believe how old you are…how much has changed….that we're even here now."

"Well Dad, I'm not a little girl anymore! People grow up, get married….that's just how it is."

"I…I know…"

"Ursa!" His wife stuck her head into the room, murder in her eyes. "The ceremony's about to get started! What are you _doing?"_

"Sorry, Mom!" She turned back to her father and said in a voice barely containing her excitement, "I'll see you after the wedding! Love you, Daddy!" She pecked him on the cheek, and then tore off after her mother.

He watched her go. Mai never would have bolted out like that, like a stallion just released from a pen. Mai wouldn't have tripped on the hem of her dress as his daughter had, and made a wild attempt to cover it.

He watched the beautiful young woman with the shining black hair and radiant look on her face chase after her mother, more than ready to charge ahead. But what he actually saw was a little girl with mud all over her, coming inside from a rainstorm and promptly crawling into his lap for warmth, ignoring the trail of filth behind her.

What he actually heard was high, hysterical laughter coming from a tiny mouth as he tickled her before bed, her shrieks of mirth loud enough to startle her brother Ryu down the hall.

What he actually felt was a small, soft hand slipped inside his own as he walked around the palace gardens, a warm, adoring smile turned up to him, and an impossibly minute body cradled in his arms, shielding her from not only her nightmares, but anything else that could do her harm as well.

"_I'm not a little girl anymore."_

"Yes…" Zuko couldn't help but murmur out loud. "You are. You always will be."

With that, he followed his daughter into her future—ready to catch her should she fall.


	7. Sister Part 1

_A/N: Originally, this was going to be the last chapter. But after Psychic Genius's wonderful review, I felt obliged to add some more-that, and the fact that the feedback mentioned something that I took some time to think over. Though I had intended this fic to be a Mai/Ursa comparism...gradually, Zuko snuck his way into the picture. I've decided then, that although the main focus is still Mai and Ursa, the theme in this is not just mother-daugher-related: but **family-**related in general. This fic was also wrote mainly to explore the differences between Mai and Ursa's lives, primarily their childhoods...and Zuko plays a major role in each. _

_As Psychic Genius pointed out, there has been little to no Azula in this fic. I was simply not sure of where to put her-it was supposed to be a mother/daughter piece, and I couldn't think of where she would fit into things. Now that the fic has expanded into a family theme, Azula will finally having a place-and more importantly, her own chapter, which is what this one is. This chapter is Part 1 of 2-the next part will cover the relationship Zuko and Mai's sons have with their little sister, contrasting the one Zuko had with his own. As always, enjoy!_

* * *

Zuko had never wanted a little sibling.

He was only two at the time of Azula's birth; so naturally, the desire to have a younger sibling had never struck him. Still, during the first week after the princess's arrival, the little prince spent most of his time sulking because his mother was still in bed recovering, and therefore, he was not allowed in to see her.

His uncle Iroh, who was back from the war momentarily to visit his family, informed his nephew that his new little sister was lovely, healthy and strong (as Zuko had been the opposite of at his own birth), and already quite active for such a young thing.

Zuko pushed his lower lip out, pouting. It wasn't fair.

"I haven't gotten to see Azula or Aunt Ursa yet either, Zuko," Lu Ten, fourteen years old and already a broad-shouldered, good-looking young man, pointed out to his younger cousin as they played with Zuko's toy soldiers on a rug in the sitting room.

"I've always wanted a little sibling, Zuko! You're actually really, really lucky!"

Zuko, at two years of age, thought that Lu Ten already had a little sibling—in him. He certainly thought of his cousin as an adopted older brother of sorts.

No matter what the case was, in a few days time, Zuko was finally allowed to come in and see his new sister. He ran to Ursa immediately, charging over on stubby legs to scramble on top of the bed and curl up against her.

Ursa, who had been slowly wasting away in sheer boredom, lit up like the sun itself. She was feeling fine, and had been for quite some time—Azula's birth had been nearly painless and almost insanely easy, especially compared to that of her son. Still, the Fire Sages insisted that she stay in bed to 'make a full recovery.'

Zuko lifted his head from where it had been buried in Ursa's arm, and peered down at the bundle resting in her embrace.

"Dat her?" He inquired, the best sort of sentence that he could form.

"Yes…" Ursa smiled, and stroked her son's dark, soft hair. "Isn't she lovely?"

Zuko didn't answer, but burrowed into his mother once again. He felt much better, safe and warm in her very presence, protected from the rest of the world.

Ursa kissed the top of his head. He would love his little sister in time.

* * *

Years later, and it became clear: Ursa's prediction had been anything but right. Zuko did not love his sister. He did not even like his sister. In all honesty, he was _scared _of her, her and her cruel games and seemingly never-ending torment of him.

It grew to the point where he would go out of his way to avoid her, purposefully hiding himself away in places where Azula could not find him. Of course, if she did happen to catch him, she only teased him a thousand times as much, for hiding from her in the first place.

If one had not known their actual birth dates, it would have been safe to assume that Azula was the older sibling. The way she held command over Zuko, using fear and trickery as her weapons of choice, it certainly seemed like he was the younger, weaker of the pair.

Ozai had no quarrels about the second argument—he was certainly of the opinion that Zuko would never match up to his sister, would never compare to the glory that was the prodigy Azula, and made sure to let his son known of this. It was common knowledge in the Fire Nation court—everyone was aware of whom the Fire Lord favored, of whom he would always favor.

Zuko was certainly scared of Azula. But as he got older, he grew more than frightened—he grew envious. Azula was younger. She was a girl. And _she _was the favorite.

Azula knew it—of course she did. And she took every opportunity that she could to rub it in his face.

"How are your Firebending lesson coming along, Zuko?" She asked him in a mock-casual voice one summer afternoon when he was nine.

Zuko flushed at her question—he had had been a late bloomer when it came to Firebending. The first tiny flickering flame that he had managed to produce in his palm had nearly brought tears of joy to his eyes, and the first person he had shown was his mother, the second, Mai.

Ursa had beamed with pride and told him that she had known he could do it all along, and that he, naturally, would soon be on par with Azula.

Mai's pale eyes widened as she took in the sight of the dancing little flame in the prince's palm, and with a blush, she told him in a soft voice that it was lovely. He walked around for the rest of the day with a noticeable smile on his face, unable to help himself.

Unfortunately, there was not much else he could produce but that small, feeble burst of fire. The spirits knew he had tried again and again to produce bigger flames, stronger ones, but the fire was just as mocking and as taunting as his sister was—it laughed at him, it refused to obey him, and it danced, just out of his reach, laughing in the cruelest way he had ever heard, with the possible exception of Azula.

"They're coming just fine," He said through gritted teeth, to which Azula smiled.

"I'm sure they are!" She nodded. "Maybe we could have a bit of a spar later? My instructors are getting too easy to beat…I could use a new challenge!"

"You're on," Zuko blurted the words out before he could take them back—his quick temper and even then, his inborn sense of pride would not let him get away with holding his tongue in a situation such as this.

"Do you really think you can beat Azula?" Mai asked him later, her eyes wide. They were sitting by the edge of the turtleduck pond feeding the little animals crusts of bread, something he often did with both her and his mother, sometimes both. He had told her about his rash acceptance of Azula's challenge, and she was taken aback—she had seen for herself, many times when the princess would show off her skills for her and Ty Lee, just how talented the princess was.

Zuko hesitated for a moment—on one hand, if he told her the truth, she might think he was weak, pathetic and a coward. On the other hand…if he lied to her, he'd be…_lying to her. _And that was something he never once wanted to think about doing.

"I'm not sure," He admitted with a sigh, tossing one last bread crust into the pond. He was always sure to aim for the smaller turtleducks, the ones that, ordinarily, might not have gotten a bite to eat.

There was a brief pause, as Mai fed her last piece to the turtleducks as well. She turned to look at him then, a shy, soft smile on her little face, and reached over, picking up his hand.

He started—it was so small, and so very soft too. It did not tremble as she held onto him.

"I'll be cheering for you," She promised him, and that, along with the wonderful pink blush on her face, was enough to make him believe that he could face the whole world—and win.

* * *

Zuko lost the duel to Azula. He lost the duel to Ozai, years later. He lost a great many things that day.

Azula had laughed and gloated about it afterwards—Zuko had received nothing that he had not deserved.

Zuko returned to the Fire Nation, in a buzz of false glory and fake honor, and Azula smiled—she knew. She knew everything, of course. She now had something else to hold over her brother's head, another weapon to add to her collection, as his fear of her had diminished.

That simply would not do. Zuko needed to learn his proper place.

Later, he did. He fought his sister for the first time in years, and the last time in years. He won. He won with the help of a friend, but in the end—the weaker, the least favored, the little brother was victorious.

He watched his little sister wail, tears streaming down her face as she writhed and screamed on the arena floor, and did not feel Katara's steadying hand on his back. All he could feel was his heart breaking for what could have—and what should have been, between him and his baby sister.


	8. Sister Part 2

_A/N: Two more chapters to go!_

* * *

Ursa sometimes hated being the only girl.

It was hard, growing up with three older brothers. They all wanted to play games together, games like tag or a ball game. They would wrestle a lot too, and Kozu always won. But no matter what the case was, a lot of the time, Ursa simply was not invited to join them—and when she tried to intervene on her own, she was sent away.

"Go away, Ursa!" Kozu demanded as he stopped briefly in his tracks, halted in the act of chasing his two little brothers around the gardens in their game of tag. "You're a girl—you won't be fast enough!"

"I am too!" Ursa insisted, stung by this injustice. She was five years old, and she was sick of playing with her dolls. Dolls couldn't talk, couldn't run, couldn't play and move and _live _like people could.

And secretly, though she will never admit it, she wanted to be accepted by her brothers, Kozu most of all. She wanted him to like her, a secret that she had kept hidden in the back of her mind for some time now.

"You will not," Kozu shot back, setting his jaw in a taunt, rigid way that bore strong resemblance to his father. At age ten, he looked more and more like Zuko every day.

"Kozu…" Ryu interjected in his quieter voice, by now having given up his mad dashing and coming over to join his siblings. "Maybe we should let her play…we'd have an even number then. We could have teams."

"No," Kozu glowered. "Whoever had Ursa on their team would be better off by himself."

Ursa couldn't stop the tears that pricked at her eyes then. She swiped at her face furiously, hating her oldest brother.

* * *

Ryu was a bit easier to get along with. As cold as Kozu was fiery, the second-oldest of the brothers kept to himself largely, especially as he grew older. Then, he was aloof, haughty, and only mildly sarcastic on a good day. But he was _smart_—spirits above, was Ryu smart.

The top of his class at school, instructors and teachers had always praised his intellect, at his cool logic and always-able mind. It was a shame, some of them reflected, that he had not been alive during the time of the Great War. He would have made a fine general.

Ursa was a bit intimidated by him—but when she was stuck on a math problem due for her homework, she knew of no one better than him to ask for assistance. She swallowed her pride and hunted her brother down in the library, where he was poring over a book surely twice as large as he was.

She cleared her throat, and his head jerked up, mild surprise flitting across his pale face before it was replaced by irritation.

"What do you want, Ursa?" He demanded in a harsh voice, and she did her best not to flinch, but approached him instead.

"Just…I needed some help on a math problem," Ursa confessed in a small voice.

"Did you try asking anyone else for help?"

"Tey doesn't know," Ursa told him. "And I don't know where Mom, Dad, or Kozu are."

Ryu rolled his eyes, and snatched the paper out of her hand, scanning it for a moment without much interest.

"I could do this in my sleep, Ursa," He informed him, handing it back to her.

"Well…I can't," Ursa pointed out, clutching onto the paper with slightly trembling fingers.

"Figure it out for yourself while you're awake then," Ryu suggested nastily, before turning back to his book.

Ursa understood herself to be dismissed—and she exited the library red-faced with embarrassment. Sometimes, she hated her older brother.

* * *

Tey was by the far the easiest brother to get along with. He exhibited a natural warmth and charisma that simply drew others to him, and although he was as outgoing as Kozu, he was not as arrogant or as rude. He, in turn, liked Ursa a good deal better than his older brothers.

He allowed her to spend time with him, especially when both his brothers out-grew him as a playmate. Tey grew close to his little sister, and it wasn't long before he, instead of choosing to find Kozu and Ryu to talk to, went to locate Ursa instead.

"Tey?" She turned to him one day, as they sat outside feeding the turtleducks. It was a habit that their father had for whenever he needed to calm his mind about something, and his children had all picked it up from him. Kozu and Ryu now, at ages eleven and ten, had each deemed themselves 'too old' to be doing such an activity now, so it was just the two youngest siblings at the pond today.

"Yes?" Tey glanced at her, ripping a chunk of bread off and tossing it into the water.

"Why do Kozu and Ryu hate me so much?" Ursa asked in a tiny, miserable voice, watching the turtleducks swarm upon the food. Of course, the bigger and stronger ones got to it first—the little ones were never successful.

"I don't think they _hate_ you…" Tey insisted, shaking his head quickly. "They just…"

"They don't like me," Ursa filled in for him, dropping her chin onto her knees. "I wish I knew why…."

"They love you," Tey insisted firmly, nodding his head now instead. "I know they do."

Ursa was not so convinced. But she loved Tey—and if he believed in something, than surely it could not be wrong.

Her brother was right, though she didn't know it at the time. Neither did Kozu and Ryu.

They loved their little sister, in every cruel word they gave her, every disdainful look, and every lie they spread when they claimed they didn't like her or want her.

* * *

_Over time, their affection for her became more and more obvious, until finally, when they were all in their young adult years, Kozu stopped trying to pretend that he had ever done anything but love her. With her encouragement, he also shed the irresponsible, devil-may-care attitude he had adapted all his life, and started to evolve into the heir to the Fire Nation throne he had been born to be._

_Ryu was the one who remained the most distant from his sister. They could talk now, could even laugh together now, but there was always a small gap in between them that neither one dared to try and bridge, should it collapse._

_As for Tey, he was always her best friend. They told each other everything. Nothing ever changed with him._

_Ursa had never really hated her brothers, and never would—but they irritated her every now and again._


End file.
